For In That Sleep Of Death
by Jambammer
Summary: Dean and Sam argue about having a normal life, and the life that will never be. And one truly will never be.


A/N: I might turn this into a longer story at some point, but enjoy this for now!

* * *

Dean winced as he lay back against the motel bed. His skin burned from where the queen bitch – Randa or something, Xena came to mind as well – had grabbed him and tried to rip his heart from his chest. For just that brief moment, he was scared, his life flashed before his eyes and the feeling that this could be it had taken hold.

The elder Winchester couldn't help but smile.

This… _This _was what it meant to be truly alive.

Sam, on the other hand, had sunken into one of his bitchy, sullen moods. It killed the joy of anyone within a five mile radius.

Dean couldn't understand it. _This_ was what they lived for. The adrenaline, the hunt, the _kill._ Purgatory had fine tuned him; now he was back where he belonged, and it was _fantastic._

"If you're gonna sulk all night, let me know now so that I can get a different room," Dean said simply, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. He could feel Sam's _really not impressed with you Dean_ face, he didn't need to see it. He wanted to bask in this feeling; he didn't need any bullshit to ruin it for him. Not tonight.

"I meant what I said, Dean," here it started, "I'm done after all this. I'm out. For good."

"Sure, sure."

"I'm serious!"

"Of course you are. You always are."

Face change; no longer unimpressed, now totally pissed off. Sam was rather predictable like that. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Good mood gone, dead, killed by the incomparable Sam Winchester. "It means," Dean stated, sitting up, "that you've left, and then come back, and then left again, and then come back again. You leave, and then you come back. You will leave, and you _will_ come back. It's how this goes, it's how it always goes. This is always how we're gonna end up; you and me and the impala and some crappy motel room, doing what we do best."

"Killing things."

"_Hunting_ things. Monsters. Come on, Sammy, it's what we were born to do!"

"No," Sam shook his head. "We were born to have normal lives. Dad dragged us into this. We could have had normal, average lives. I _did_ have that kind of life."

"Sam, you were fed _demon's_ blood at six months old," sometimes, it was like Sam forgot everything they'd been through. "We were destined to be the friggin' vessels for the ultimate showdown. We were never going to have normal lives. Normal lives are a dream for us." A nightmare sometimes; Living with Lisa and not being able to hunt felt like an itch that could never be scratched.

"They don't have to be a dream, Dean! Not anymore! Maybe, years ago when I had Jessica, okay maybe that was 'destined' to end the way it did. But not anymore. While you were gone, I had Amelia, I had a dog, I was _happy._"

"For a while, sure, but things don't stay perfect. This is us. We'll never have the whole white picket fence and Christmas card family. We're hunters, and it'll _always_ catch up with us." Lisa and Ben, the night he'd been turned vampire… Dean shivered. "Dreams are nice and all, Sam, but they need to stay dreams. We don't get to live that life, good things don't happen to us. We gotta take the good when we can get it."

Sam went quiet, seemingly giving up. His brother lay back down, suddenly feeling very tired instead of the rush he had been experiencing.

"I want to try." No one could say that Sam wasn't stubborn, that was for damn sure.

"Be my guest," Dean said with a smirk. For just a moment, Sam looked about twenty two or twenty three, still a lost kid. "Y'know, I've been thinking about the whole being at peace thing."

"You find peace in hunting?"

"Yeah, I guess I do," he laughed. "Maybe I'm going crazy, but…" He blinked. Sam really _did_ look as though he were twenty three. "Definitely going crazy."

"Dean? What?"

It wasn't changing. "Why are you so young?"

"What're you talking about?"

"You look like you're fresh from the Stamford burning dorm room."

Sam looked down at his hands. "Oh," he said softly, with a short laugh. "It seems reality is finally bleeding through. I wondered when that would happen."

Reality? "Excuse me?" This wasn't _Sam_ here with him, so who was it?

"You just couldn't accept that you had a good life – still can't, apparently. I had to throw everything I could at you just to get you to believe it. I gave you a best friend, had him betray you, killed people you loved, _started the apocalypse_." Fake-Sam had a pitying look on his face, and Dean didn't like it one bit. "It's really quite sad. Most people live out these lifetimes enjoying the peace, but you couldn't ever accept it."

Flashes. The room was flashing. It was suddenly dark. He was tied by his wrists. The motel room was still there, but it wasn't.

Fake-Sam gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's your time now. I hope you truly do find peace, Dean."

* * *

"Ellen? It's Sam… I uh-I didn't know who else to call. Bobby's on his way but… I… Dean's dead, Ellen. He's gone. He was hunting a djinn, and it got him. I found him too late. I could've saved him, but I just… He was delirious, right before… he told me to be normal. Yeah, I know he could've meant… I'll never be _normal._ I'm gonna get this thing, Ellen. It's dead. For Dean. I will get it, right after I get the yellow-eyed demon. I will take all of these things down!"


End file.
